Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

have known it would be Mrs. Thirsk who found out.
    â€œMy Worcester!” said Aunt Dot.
    â€œMy geraniums!” said Cousin Ronald.
    â€œDavid!” said Uncle Bernard vigorously.
    â€œThey were on the landing windowsill,” explained righteous Mrs. Thirsk.
    â€œI think that was a very nice thought,” Astrid said unexpectedly. The rest, David included, stared at her in astonishment. Astrid went rather red. “Flowers are always a nice thought,” she said.
    â€œIt was pure disobedience,” said Cousin Ronald.
    â€œI’m sure David was only trying to please,” said Astrid. “There’s never any pleasing you, Ronald. Can’t you tell a nice thought when you see one?”
    â€œMy geraniums are not a nice thought,” said Cousin Ronald. “And that jug is valuable.”
    â€œYou can go to bed, boy,” said Uncle Bernard. “Here and now.”
    â€œWithout supper?” David said, truly dismayed.
    â€œExactly,” said Aunt Dot.
    David got up to go. But he did not see why Mr. Chew should get away with his bullying. “Mr. Chew told me to pick them,” he said.
    â€œNone of your lies,” said Cousin Ronald. “Chew is an excellent fellow.”
    â€œIf you ask me, he’s more like the Abominable Snowman,” said Astrid.
    â€œWe were not asking you,” said Uncle Bernard. “Leave the room, David.”
    David trailed to the door, past triumphant Mrs. Thirsk. Behind him, Astrid said: “You deprive him of supper just because of a bunch of flowers! To hear you, you’d think geraniums were more important than people!”
    As David walked upstairs, there was a clamor of voices in the dining room, suggesting that everyone, down to Mrs. Thirsk, had turned on Astrid. David had known them do that before from time to time. He trailed to his room. Mr. Chew was still gardening away outside, so there was no possibility of fetching Luke for company. David began a long barren evening—no Luke, no doodles, no supper.
    Almost no supper. Two hours or so later, someone thumped on the door. David answered it with a forsaken mutter and hoped they would go away. To his surprise, Astrid put her head round the door, looking rather white and red round the eyes. “Here,” she said. “I can’t see you go hungry. Catch!”
    David caught—in the slips it would have counted as a very good catch—a large packet of biscuits. “Thanks,” he said.
    â€œDon’t mench,” said Astrid. “I can’t stay. Dot says to remind you to bring Luke tomorrow.” Before David could tell her this was impossible, Astrid had gone.
    When your bed is full of biscuit crumbs, you wake early. David woke very early, among crumbs, sunshine and birdsong, and went at once to the window in hopes that Mr. Chew had not yet arrived.
    Mr. Chew was there. He was standing in the middle of the dewy lawn, talking to another man. David, as Luke had done the day before, got himself away from the center of the window at once and looked at them round the edge of the curtain. The other man had his back to the house, and what David could see of him looked ordinary and respectable enough. He was taller than Mr. Chew and nothing like so wide, and he was wearing the kind of dark suit that Cousin Ronald’s friends usually wore. But Cousin Ronald’s friends did not usually walk in the dew with Mr. Chew.
    Mr. Chew was doing most of the talking. David saw him wave one great arm up the garden and suspected he was telling the other man about the rebuilt wall. Then, after more gestures, he swung round and pointed at the house, straight at David’s window. The stranger turned to look. David saw nothing of what followed, because he was pressed against the wall beside the window hoping he had not been seen. When he dared to look again, the stranger had gone. Mr. Chew was digging viciously at a rose bed, and the only living things near